


On the Edge of a Precipice, I will find you

by StolenMidnightKisses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Dark Harry, Dark fic, Evil, Fluff, Gallows Humor, Gore, Harry and Bellatrix are the iconic duo, Harry can play the piano, Harry's in a dark place, Insanity, Intelligent Harry, Light crack, M/M, No Bashing, OOC, Porn, Porn With Plot, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Public Sex, Rating may change as I post, Redemption, Rituals, Room of Requirement, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, Voldemort is a poet in disguise, important plot point right there, instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenMidnightKisses/pseuds/StolenMidnightKisses
Summary: Harry Potter had seen more than normal 17-year-olds, and not in a good way. He'd seen hunger and power and the cruel playings of ambition. He'd seen torture and pain and the worst humanity could offer.He'd seen it all. But he hadn't walked out of it intact.And he finds help in the unlikeliest of places: the neat enigma of the man once called Tom Marvolo Riddle.AN: Will be long and multi-chaptered. Updates once a week, every Friday. Looking for a beta to keep me accountable and to save me from my awful punctuating :)





	On the Edge of a Precipice, I will find you

Harry stood on the precipice of the astronomy tower, gazing at the drop below for it was a long fall indeed. He stood there for a little while longer, swaying alarmingly forwards and back, as if he were a child, unable to stay still, rocking back and forth on their feet. The wind swelled around Harry, a cacophony of wails and screams, bringing forth with it the lashing tears of the sky and lighting. Being as high up as Harry were, one could almost imagine that Harry could reach up into the sky and grab it as it fried him to crisp. An odd amalgamation of God-like and mortal. And yet Harry still stood there, on the precipice of the unknown, hair matted and soaked just like the rest of him and glasses foggy and unfocused and yet Harry still stared outwards as if he was unhindered by such trivialities. And perhaps he wasn’t.

And if someone had been watching him, they would have gasped as Harry tipped forward a final time, looking all as if he were about to take flight, instead of fall to the ground, for he indeed looked capable of it, illuminated by the eerie light of thunder as he were. In that moment, one also would have said that his eyes looked alive for a second; alight in almost childish wonder, and such a startling change from the utter blankness that Harry’s face had been sporting beforehand.

And if someone were watching him, they would have seen that moment pass as quickly as the streaks of lightning filling the sky, and how Harry simply turned and walked away, as if he hadn’t been teasing Death with tantalising promises of a fall. No one would have condemned the person watching if they hadn’t been able to tell whether it was rain or tears on Harry’s face, for his eyes were shuttered and blank, but tired, so tired, and his body looked nothing like his 17 years of age as he walked towards the door, but weary and old as if he had seen all the world had to offer, and found it a grimmer place than could be helped.

If someone were watching they’d say that Harry looked like a broken angel falling from the sky, and the moment he tilted from the tower, he’d looked like lucifer falling to the ground.

But no one had been watching, for no one had ever watched.

Harry had no one.

And he could not bring himself to care right then.


End file.
